Embracing Therapy as a Latina Changed My Mental Health Journey

Like many Latinx families, mine hasn’t had an easy or simple relationship with therapy, self-care, or mental health. Despite the many traumas in our lives – physical and domestic abuse, identity crises, segregation, racism and xenophobia, being undocumented – no one I knew had ever gone to therapy or they only went with things got really dire and hid it from the rest of the family in shame. I even grew up listening to a particularly infamous story about how a great-aunt of mine was put into an insane asylum against her will after her husband’s death, a symptom of the stigma surrounding mental health that affected our family and our whole community at large and that is still felt today. It’s not hard to see how all of those attitudes have been passed down to me. I used to think that therapy was only for people with really severe mental health issues, that self-care was just an excuse for being selfish, and that whatever emotions I was going through was something I could handle on my own.

I haven’t believed these things for a long time, probably not since college. But still, I was convinced that therapy wasn’t for me. I had a family member who went to therapy weekly, so I had a model for what a healthy relationship with mental health care looked like. And sure, I became angry easily and had so much daily stress that I woke up every morning in physical pain but I still thought that there was nothing “wrong” with me, not in the traditional sense, or that it was just my personality. Why should a perfectly healthy person need outside care, support, and help?

Everything changed three months ago when I got a part-time job working at a library, which has been my dream job forever. While I quickly grew to love my co-workers and learned to master my different responsibilities, inside I was struggling to juggle my new job with school, family responsibilities, my relationship with my partner, and the hobbies that brought me joy, and my mental health took a huge downturn. Any minor inconvenience, like a car cutting me off while I was driving, put me in an angry and irritable mood for the rest of the day. I had crying spells once or twice a week, sometimes for what felt like no reason. I woke up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe, then couldn’t go back to sleep because my thoughts were running at a million miles a minute. I became overstimulated more easily, from seeing too many emails in my inbox to trying to have a phone call with someone near me talking in the background. I froze up when people raised their voices. I became sad, withdrawn, and anxious, and even if I was having a good day, I worried about what might happen that could set me off.

The breaking point came when I was driving to work one morning and, for the life of me, I couldn’t stop crying the whole way there. If you’ve ever cried while driving, you know how dangerous it is because you need to be able to see in order to drive. Crying only makes your vision blurry, your reflexes slower, and you more prone to making stupid mistakes and potentially cause an accident. But what was scaring me in that moment wasn’t the safety hazard I was presenting to other drivers. It was the fact that this had never happened before. Never in my life had I ever cried going to school, even when I had a big test. And I definitely hadn’t ever cried going to work, even when I wasn’t looking forward to the day. Afterward, as I sat in the parking lot waiting for my shift to start, I knew that I wasn’t crying because I was dreading going to work; I really did love my job. Instead, I was crying because it felt like I was being crushed by the weight of all my obligations and responsibilities, by other people’s expectations of me, and by everything in my life that was out of my control. I felt totally lost, overwhelmed, and alone.

I knew at that moment that everything I was experiencing wasn’t normal and I had to get help. That week, I researched therapists online, preferably Latina therapists who had experience with stress management and who were culturally aware. Honestly, it was almost a little too easy how quickly I was able to find an e-therapy service that took my insurance and a therapist that met most of my criteria. I have to acknowledge here how privileged I felt and continue to feel because there are so many other people in my position who are forced to pay out of pocket or who can’t access therapy at all because of financial constraints or stigma from their loved ones. I’m so lucky to still be on my parents’ insurance, to have their emotional and financial support, and for everyone in my life to want me to get better.

That first meeting with my therapist was admittedly nerve-wracking, mostly because I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never done this before. But from the get-go, my therapist was kind, patient, understanding, and empathetic. Because it was our first meeting, she wanted a general overview to give her a starting base for our work together, asking a lot of questions about my symptoms, relationships, and upbringing (because she has a background in trauma-informed care). She would nod and type on her computer whenever I discussed my symptoms, which made me feel good because it reminded me of the way a teacher nods when you get a question right in class and because it seemed like she was really listening.

By the end of the session, she diagnosed me with an adjustment disorder, a condition that is characterized by difficulty adjusting to major life changes, traumas, and other outside stressors. More specifically, it means having stronger emotional reactions to stressors than what would be considered “normal” compared to those without adjustment disorders or more than what seems a necessary response given the situation or circumstances. This can result in many of the symptoms I was experiencing like crying spells, anxiety, depression, hopelessness, sadness, and feeling overwhelmed. It’s a fairly common diagnosis because it can affect anyone at any age and can last for a few months or the rest of your life. That said, it is more common in women and can become dangerous if it leads to suicide and substance or alcohol abuse.

I won’t lie, reading about adjustment disorders after my session scared me at first because of all the ways it could’ve gotten worse had I not started therapy. But at the same time, it also gave me a profound sense of relief. Finally, I had a name for what I was going through. I wasn’t overreacting for no reason. I wasn’t “too emotional” or “needy” or “helpless.” I had an explanation, something I could point to and say, “This is why I feel the way I’m feeling right now. This is why I’m acting this way.” I could even ask for accommodations at work if I needed to.

But the work has only just begun. Since that first session, my therapist and I have done a lot of work together unearthing childhood traumas, analyzing my behavior and progress week to week, and practicing tools that I use in my everyday life to manage my symptoms. I’m learning strategies like “fact-checking,” where I practice listing out the hard facts I know about a situation and comparing them to my own perception to counter my anxiety. Two weeks ago, I was extremely stressed and overstimulated because I had a whole laundry list of things to do and thought I was going to be late for work. In that moment, I mentally listed out the facts like: “I have an hour and a half to get ready. My make-up only takes me 15 minutes. My partner will make lunch for me. It’s okay if I’m a few minutes late dropping off my dog at daycare.” Once I had my list, it lowered my anxiety because I realized that my perception of how much time I had and how much I had to get done wasn’t as accurate as I thought it was. In reality, I had more than enough time and the tasks I had to get done would only take me a few minutes each.

Not every day is so simple. Sometimes the tools and strategies my therapist gives me don’t work as well as I want them to. Sometimes practicing self-care, like lighting a candle or reading, doesn’t make any difference and in fact, might make me feel worse because it makes it seem like I’m beyond help. Sometimes I have to feel my feelings, then help myself move on later. But therapy has helped me see that I don’t have to do this alone. I don’t have to suffer forever. I don’t have to stay this way. It’s okay to prioritize taking care of myself and say no without feeling selfish.

I’ve really come to see my therapist as another person in my support solar system and who I can joke and laugh with during our sessions like I would a friend. She has helped me recognize the underlying reasons for my behavior and how my past traumas continue to affect how I move through the world. She has shown me how I can value myself and my life through every change and transformation. My mental health journey has only just begun but I’m excited to see where it takes me and find myself more hopeful for the future, that everything will be okay.